


Still stedfast, still unchangeable

by seacheck4



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, Couple Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, F/M, Mentions of the Inner Circle (ACoTaR), Missing Scene, POV Feyre Archeron, Pregnancy, Rhys Needs Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seacheck4/pseuds/seacheck4
Summary: *ACOSF SPOILERS*How do Feyre and Rhys justify their choices to each other, especially while keeping secrets from the world, and each other? (Frankly how do they even function with all the trauma flying in every direction?) Imagined scenes during ACOSF.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 15
Kudos: 76





	1. A Nightmare

Later, standing in Amren’s apartment as alternating waves of fear and betrayal washed over me, I would remember this night differently. But at the time, being woken up by an aching bladder during the darkest part of the early morning was such a sweet inconvenience.

I had come to know the sounds and textures of Night; the loneliness and terror after nightmares wrenched me from sleep, the grief and despair that could keep my mind and guts roiling until dawn. And now, thanks to Rhys, I knew what it was like to face the terror down, to be comforted and offer comfort, or lie with my mate, breathless and sated, under the dazzling Night sky.

These weeks were another kind of Night to share. Tending to the needs of my body and mapping the changes wrought by my child within was a pleasure under these calm stars. Unlike the changes of being Made, these were routine, predictable, shared by every mother. I wondered what my mother had felt, and in her absence, felt connected to women and children at the studio in a new way. Human jokes I had heard long ago suddenly made sense. I was always hungry and tired and _hungry_ , but every rogue wave of nausea or emotion also made me happy. I knew it was all for him. Nyx, we had decided.

I couldn’t stop cupping my hands over my now-protruding belly, and Rhys had an especially reverent way of gliding his fingertips along the curve that always had me smiling. He could be so gentle now, sometimes gazing at me with all the depth and quiet of this witching hour. “I won’t break,” I found myself reminding him, but he’d just shake his head and give half a smile.

Love wasn’t always screaming and blood and tears, curses and bargains and fae magic. Love could be like this, too, I laughed to myself. Just shuffling quietly to the toilet, growing and taking care, and the magic of changing a little bit every day.

My body’s new shape could still be concealed under a sweater, but soon that wouldn’t be enough. My balance was already off. Despite Rhys’s best magical and rhetorical efforts, I wouldn’t hide myself, our family. Mor’s reaction had been glorious and overwhelming. We had spent her only spare hour on her last return from Vallahan marveling at my complexion and squealing over onesies and crib blankets before I took a nap. She and Rhys went over strategy for the return journey, and by the time I woke up, she had left for another round of negotiations.

I was rinsing off my hands and gazing at the late Autumn constellations I could see over the Sidra, weighing my desire for a slice of Elain’s leftover cheese and mushroom pie against the risk of heartburn, when I felt tendrils of Rhys’s Night power pooling around my ankles like tar. It had seeped under the bathing room door in the minutes I had been gone, and then I felt the bond. This was not his usual playful, friendly tug; it was as though Rhys had grabbed me around the middle with both arms and pulled. It nearly knocked me off my feet.

I rushed back into the bedroom, where Rhys sat upright, rigid, a hand stretched over to my side of the bed where the sheets must still be warm. The floor was covered in viscous, knee-deep Night. I started wading through it, but it was tough going. The room smelled of panic, and I tried not to gag as I switched to breathing through my mouth. After dinner he had spent a few more hours in his study poring over tomes Thesan sent over, in languages I couldn't read even if I wasn't too tired to help. He had gotten to bed late and unsettled, which often triggered a night of bad sleep. I reached out on the bond and tried to find a crack in his shields, but they were as solid as ever, and didn’t budge when I passed my mental hand along their edge. “What’s wrong?” I stage-whispered at him from across the room, stumbling into an Ottoman in my haste to get back to him.

All I could see were the whites of his eyes as Rhys slowly turned to me in the dark. I couldn’t tell if he was truly awake or still gripped by whatever nightmare this was. For all the ways we had joined our lives and minds and bodies, there were still times when my human heart skipped a beat at the strangeness of my mate in the thrall of his own magic.

“Feyre.” He exhaled and the whole room exhaled with him, becoming a fraction lighter and less oppressive. I took a few last steps through the thinning Night-tar, and finally crawled up onto the foot of the bed, kneeling astride his shins. His hand had gripped the pooled sheets, just where my heart would be if I had been asleep there. I watched his shirtless chest rise and fall, gulping down breaths like he had just sprinted uphill. Lately I had been waking up to him caressing my back, my arms, but just took it as an invitation to kiss his nose and snuggle closer before dozing off a few minutes longer. Or nestle my backside into his lap, arch over my shoulder for a kiss, and start the day off deliciously. I thought we were both feeling a surge of hormone-fuelled desire. Had he been spending the mornings alone with his nightmares each time?

I must have been frowning as I gazed at him from my perch just below his knees. “Is everything alright?” he asked, casually, pulling his arm back to himself.

I glanced around the room where pools of blackness seeped away into the floor. “I don’t know, is it? I get up to pee and two minutes later you’ve redecorated with a swamp theme.” I eased off his legs and crawled up to the head of the bed, pulling his face into my hands. I wanted to touch him, and examine the haunted look he wore more closely. “You look like Bryaxis stopped by for a visit.” I meant that as a joke, but honestly… “He didn’t, did he?”

He shook his head, gave half a smirk, and cleared his throat. His voice was heavy despite it. “No, no. The mushrooms in that pie aren’t settling right.” He flicked his fingers, and we watched the remnants of his dream or worry or whatever-had-manifested on our bedroom floor wither into smoke.

Bullshit. “I’ve never seen this before,” I noted, stroking one hand down his temple, the other carding through his silky hair. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Our common refrain.

He leaned into my hand, and his eyes fluttered closed. He knew he could tell me no, and sometimes he did. But this wasn’t a no. It was like the burden of whatever horror he had seen tonight pressed his head into my palm, too heavy for him to carry alone.

“It’s all right,” he said, soothing. “It’s just the mating instinct. I admit I’m being a bit overprotective, but I know you’re both here and safe now.”

“A bit.” I gestured around the room, referring to the seeping, sticky mess that had coated our comfortable bedroom, if only for few minutes. “All of that happened in the time it took me to go to the toilet?”

“What can I say?” he mumbled, kissing into my palm, “I never want to be without you, Feyre darling.”

“You aren’t. You won’t be. Can you look at me, please?” I asked, gently.

He kept his eyes closed. I knocked firmly at his mental shield, and a tendril of his mind came out to still the knocking hand and run a gentle stroke back down to me. He mirrored the movement with his actual hands, running them up and down my wrists and arms, as though he were sculpting me from the dark.

I started again. “If you’re not going to show me, at least talk to me. You don’t have to tell me every detail, but don’t lie to me about mushrooms and gloss over what you’re feeling.”

Rhys sighed. We had a shorthand for the more common nightmares. ‘Her and Azriel’, or ‘after the third trial’, or ‘Cassian’s face at Hybern.’ Sometimes it was an even smaller fragment, just ‘Helpless’ or ‘War.’ It went both ways. I knew how hard it was, how much it cost him to put words to those feelings, and was grateful for whatever small relief my presence, my listening, could bring him, as his presence comforted me. But he didn’t come up with any of those.

“It was just a nightmare. And then you weren’t here, and for a moment I wasn’t sure what was real.” I nodded. He took my hands in his and settled back against the headboard. “You should — we should go back to sleep. I’m sorry it upset you, I won’t let it happen again.”

His words had a grain of truth in them, but rubbed me the wrong way. He wouldn’t _let_ it happen again? We both knew the nightmares came regardless of what we wanted. I pulled my hands away from him and he frowned. It would happen, and it would hurt him, and he would try to carry it alone instead of sharing it with me.

A shiver went down my spine. I’d had this fight before, and lost, terribly. Suddenly it was like my past self from the Spring court was one of Azriel’s shadows whispering a warning in my ear, reminding me of what happens when I let someone hide all the difficult and painful things from me, control what I knew, decide what I heard and saw and could do. A bottle of red paint smashed in the study. My hand beating against an invisible wall. A ring melting off in rage. It was like my own shadow from back then came to say ‘If he’ll lock you out, he’ll lock you in.’

So I stayed sitting, refusing his invitation to curl up in his arms. Didn’t trust the idea of being coddled by him; smothered by him. “I’m not upset that you had a nightmare, I”m upset that you’re not telling me the whole story. I wasn’t even _upset_ until now. What do you mean you won’t let it happen?”

Rhys sat back up and gave me a level stare. “Mother help me, can you ever just let me care for you without turning it into a fight?”

“I guess not. Which one is it, Rhys? You can’t resist your mating instincts, or you can maintain perfect control over everything all the time?” We were getting louder. Madja told me if I couldn't stop my magic, it was better to be warm than cold, so I sent my anger into fire rather than ice. I could feel the room warm up as my voice rose. “Because LET ME be extremely clear — I LET you! I let you do too much already! I’m walking around my own house in a bubble, for Caulron’s sake!”

His brows furrowed above the cold stare he hadn’t dropped. “I let YOU do too much. Anyone can walk into your studio, you don’t even keep records of who’s coming and going. Azriel’s brought it up more than once, and it drives me up the wall any time I think about it.”

Now, I was mad. He did not just threaten my studio, the thing I had built with his full support and cherished more than any other part of my work. He couldn’t have.

I brought my voice down into the commanding register I was still learning to wield. It wouldn’t do a thing on him, but it would give the lighting fixtures a solid rattle.

“Rhys. My love. You warded every brick of the studio yourself, and the people of Velaris — your people — are the ones who come and go. We are very safe. I promised not to take any risks, but I’m not going to stop going to the studio and you won’t be escorting me every time I go to the bathing room.”

He brought a drop of that thunder into his own voice. “You’ve only been fae for the blink of an eye, and part of this court for even less time. There are risks you don’t always see, and I am trying to anticipate those problems for you—” he winced, correcting himself “— with you.”

We had been sitting inches apart on the bed, staring daggers at each other. My skin was hot and crawling, and the voice from my past was still whispering at me, now simply ‘Get out, get out, get out.’

I edged off the bed and started pacing, even as I held his gaze. I wasn't going to listen to my past self, but I couldn't make the same mistakes again, either. “Well, that sounds great, Rhys. I wonder how long it will take for ‘anticipating a problem’ to turn into an impenetrable shield the size of the house? That always works perfectly, much better than telling me about your concerns or sending a hint of them down the magical fucking psychic connection you are usually all too happy to share.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, so I went further. “Maybe you and Tamlin can reconnect over Feyre-trapping strategies. There are a few ways to guilt me you haven't tried yet.”

The power went out of his voice, and the light went out of his eyes. “I could never take freedom away from you.”

I knew that was low, but it got his attention. I pressed on. “That’s the thing. You and Helion made sure you could do it, technically, and now I have to trust that you won’t.” I came back to stand at my side of the bed, crossing my arms. “I have to trust you and anticipate your problems, too, which is a lot harder when you won’t _tell me what’s on your mind_. You’re completely unreasonable right now.”

“This whole conversation is completely unreasonable,” he muttered, “Your safety is on my mind. Constantly.”

“Well, I don’t feel safe when you keep things from me. You try to hide it, but when you’re worried, it seeps in to everything. Cassian said you had been moody, even Nesta noticed it.”

The cold was back in his voice. “I hope Nesta gets a lot of satisfaction from criticizing my character instead of examining her own.”

“She doesn’t worship the ground you walk on, you mean.” I spat out. Nesta didn’t know about half the things Rhys had sacrificed for others. He would never share them with her, and they weren’t my stories to tell on his behalf. Maybe she would see him differently if she knew any of the context, or maybe she would use it as ammunition in some startling, hurtful way. He was right to keep so many secrets, but not from me. So, Nesta only knew the preening, proud, powerful mask he put on. The mask that had disgusted me at first, too. “Nesta barely knows you. And there’s plenty you don’t know about her.”

Now that the fight was on less sensitive ground, we were getting louder again. He thundered back, “I know Nesta’s dangerous. We have no insight into what she can do, intentionally or by accident. She’s been completely out of control.”

“You mean she’s out of your control. She’s been trying! We knew it was going to take time. Cassian says she’s already made a real change.”

“I wouldn’t believe what you hear about her from Cassian. You wouldn’t either if you had caught a whiff of that house.”

I couldn’t believe he would say that right now, given our previous exchanges. My mind was racing, and the words couldn’t come out fast enough. “Maybe I would if you _let me_ go there. You just hate that you can’t get into her mind to force her or glamour her, and I guess she’s not worth the effort of having to actually negotiate with, unlike the Illyrians or Eris or Keir, who are always so agreeable.”

He groaned, and picked up the familiar threads of this old fight. “That’s not what I — our allies are at least a known quantity, and at the end of the day I have leverage, I know I can handle them.”

Here we were, at last. Rhys’ power. My power. All the strange, Cauldron-wrought threads that brought us to this moment in our lives and this part of tonight’s fight, the root of every fight.

“I know it’s a great burden to be the most powerful High Lord ever, Rhys, but it’s not you against the world anymore. The only reason you’re alive is because our allies, including Tamlin, including Beron, against all odds, helped you. So you can stop this self-sacrificing bullshit, because we are equals in every way, by choice and bargain and bond, and you are actually not alone.”

“And I would give _anything_ to keep it that way, anything including pissing you off, because I’d rather watch you get angry with me than watch you in a moment of pain or fear that I could have prevented!” He was raging at full volume now. “I’ve watched too many people I love die, I fucking can’t do it again with you!”

Unbelievable. “YOU can't do it again!” I shouted. "YOU. DIED." I crawled back onto the bed to kneel and meet him at eye level.

“You died FIRST!” He shouted back, hands raking through his hair. “And I was too weak to do anything but watch!”

“I had to watch _you_!” I was inches from his face, shouting and giving my best imitation of Nesta’s accusatory point right into the center of his chest. “After you _blocked me out_ because you knew it was coming!”

“At least you got to take me home after! I had to see you -- my mate -- die, resurrect you, and then, yes, LET YOU go off with my worst living enemy!”

“I'm truly, very sorry about that, because I am literally the one person who understands how you feel, but I couldn't do anything about it at the time, because I didn’t find out you were my mate until _the Suriel told me_ while I was saving your wretched life _months and months_ after it was relevant!”

We both paused. Rhys leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes again, running his thumb across his bottom lip. "You're not wrong about any of this," he mused. "I know that. But I don't think I'm wrong either, and my love and fear for you are so strong, I can't..." He trailed off. 

I sank down and crossed my legs in front of me, arranging the hem of my nightgown as a distraction. I kind of had to pee again.

“This isn't helping,” I said, quietly, “and we’re tired. I love you and you’re not allowed to leave me behind, and that’s all.”

“I agree completely,” he said, laying down with a huff and angrily fluffing his pillow with one hand.

“Before you get comfortable, I’m going to the toilet and will be back in approximately two minutes,” I said primly. “Just in case you want to tag along.”

His shoulders relaxed and he smiled up at me. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

I made another trip to the bathing room. When I opened the door, two rows of faelights along the floor lit a path back to my side of the bed, skirting the Ottoman which I guessed would be gone tomorrow. Too hazardous.

I settled back onto my own pillow and studiously avoided Rhys by staring up at the ceiling, but that made my back ache. I turned on my side and dragged my pillow toward him, slipping a leg over his. He cautiously draped an arm over my waist, running his thumb along my back while our heart rates came back down.

“Did we really just fight about Elain’s pie and who had the worst magical resurrection?” he asked.

I exhaled sharply, in place of a real laugh. “No. It was about you acting like a controlling bastard mother hen and me trying to live a normal life.”

“Of course, right,” he nodded. “I was distracted by your extreme beauty and intoxicating scent, but I remember now.” He kept stroking my back, eventually scooting closer to tuck my head under his and take a deep breath at the (apparently intoxicating) crown of my head.

Our inhales and exhales started to match rhythm, and my ire gave way to the edge of sleep. The darkness was calm again.

He whispered. “I was scared in the dream. You were being taken from me, it was my fault and I couldn’t go with you, I couldn’t help you or stop it. I tried to get help from every friend we have, but no one could fix it. I knew it was just a dream that had scared me, but then I reached for you, and you were gone, and it was the worst feeling. And then I remembered it wasn’t just you, it was Nyx too, and the feeling actually got even worse, and the fact that he wasn’t even in the dream makes me… “ His words ran out. He shook his head. “I am wretched. There’s so much I should do — there’s so much I want to do, I’m happy to do — to be worthy of you. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep bad things from happening to the people I love. People get killed because of me.”

“Thank you for telling me.” I murmured back to him. I let my own words slowly roll out of me. “I don’t think bad things happen because of you, Rhys. Bad things happen to everybody sometimes. We do the best we can, and we help each other try to find the right way to go, and we help each other if it all goes wrong anyway.”

He felt far away, but nodded. I let it go. Maybe it really had been about the pie.

I drifted back to sleep as dawn broke, and Rhys and the ottoman were gone by the time I woke to the brightness of mid morning.


	2. Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *ACOSF SPOILERS*
> 
> What happened in Chapters 46 & 47 from Feyre's POV?

So many things snapped into focus that afternoon at Amren’s. The trips to and from other courts. The conversations that started before I arrived, continued after I left. Rhys had never been more tired and distracted. Maybe none of it was because he was becoming a father and trying to prevent a war; maybe all of it was because we were in mortal peril, and I had no idea. Yes, I was suddenly scared for the baby, for myself. But he had been hiding this huge thing for months, and recruited all of our closest friends to hide it, too. 

Weeks ago, I had compared Rhys’s overprotectiveness to Tamlin’s sealing me in to Rosehall. At least Tamlin hadn’t tried to hide it. He had made his fears and intentions unmistakably clear. Rhys pretended everything was fine, and I was so happy to believe him. Being trapped at Rosehall was one of the worst days of my life, but at least I had seen the danger and been aware of what was happening when the walls went up around me.

I sent Nesta away and watched as she fled the apartment. She had nothing to fear but herself, really. I couldn’t summon the energy to be concerned for her. I suddenly couldn’t summon the energy to do much at all. I wanted to go home, pull the quilt over my head, and numb out of this day until the disaster passed. Imagining the bedroom felt like another blow; how many times had Rhys lied to me about what was on his mind? How many hours had he spent concealing his terror while bringing me to ecstasy over and over? I shuddered. If he was no better than Tamlin, I was no better than Amarantha, forcing him to wear a mask, hide his feelings, putting him through his paces to keep me happy. The bedroom felt like a crime scene now. I would have to speak to the main offender soon enough, but his second was in front of me now, watching and calculating as Varian panted next to her. 

I couldn’t stop my tears from falling, so tried to keep it quick. “I’m furious with you. I’ll send someone to fix your door, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. All of us.” I turned on my heel, paused, and then turned back. “Did he know?” I asked Amren, nodding to Varian.  
“I found out…inadvertently, and took it upon myself to make some discreet inquiries to healers in Summer Court.” Varian answered. Amren raised an eyebrow at him. Nice to know we weren’t the only couple with communication problems.  
I nodded. “Sorry about the mess.” I turned again and left the loft before a fresh crop of tears could fall. Varian obviously hadn’t heard any good news, or he wouldn’t have that stricken look on his face. I stood at the bottom of the stairwell, angrily wiping away my tears, hoping that a few moments of Winter-cooled breeze would fix my puffy eyes and school my face back into control.

He was in his study when I reached my mind to his. I couldn’t stop my mental voice from shaking.

 _Cassian told Nesta about the swords, and she was upset that we voted on whether to tell her. Especially that Amren voted no. She arrived at Amren’s in a rage about it._ I sent him my memory of climbing the stairs to the broken down door, Amren and Nesta in a standoff a few minutes ago, and skipped to the image of Nesta leaving, before rushing through the next part. _I sent her back to the House of Wind, but what I really want to know, is when you were planning to tell me that Nyx’s wings were going to get us killed?_

 _Feyre,_ he started. I could feel his annoyance become confusion and then the rage, rising like a wave. It wasn’t directed at me, but my very bones vibrated with his anger.

 _And you need to get someone to fix Amren’s door._ I stepped outside and started the short walk back to the studio.

 _Feyre,_ he said, _I’ll be right there._ The wave crashed, and I hoped I was the only one in Velaris who noticed a tremor in the air. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon. I felt bad for whoever was still at the House. Cassian, probably, since he hadn’t intercepted Nesta already. And the poor staff. I could imagine Rhys’ rage disintegrating every window in his study, and I didn’t want to see it, and didn’t want to apologize to the housekeepers who’d be finding glass shards all over. Glass would get in Elain’s azaleas. Did Nesta actually make it down the stairs, or did she contrive some other means of escape? My mind couldn’t settle. I felt bad for myself, a walking corpse who was too stupid to realize that a fae body couldn’t give birth to Illyrian wings. "Let Feyre die in ignorance," Nesta had said. Everybody knew. Healers, strangers in other courts had thought about the most private parts of me and offered an opinion. Everybody knew except me.

 _Don’t you dare,_ I sent back. _You don’t need me right now, and I don’t have the right words to say to you anyway. I’m so mad at you, Rhys. We promised we wouldn’t spend a moment in this world without each other. I’ve never felt so alone in my life._

I closed the connection brusquely before I could draw a direct comparison to being locked in at Rosehall, and took a few deep breaths before mounting the stairs to the studio. Disasters were always months of dreadful buildup, then a sudden end. My life had turned upside down, but only about 15 minutes had actually passed, and the students were just wrapping up. I had been painting in the back during one of Ressina’s classes. It must have been terrifying for these vulnerable kids to see Varian rush in, see me rush out. I had to reassure them that everything was under control. I nodded to Ressina, grateful that she had been here and in charge. I sat down on a spare stool in the main room and smiled brightly at the kids who were putting away their supplies and stacking their work in cubbies. 

One of the newer students sidled over to me. Her big brown eyes peered up at me behind a fringe of iridescent bangs. “Are they here?” she whispered. 

Had she been picturing an invading army, an angry mob, Keir and his Nightmare Court?

I took her hand, and cleared my throat so my answer would be loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m so sorry class was interrupted today. It was a surprise, and I bet it looked scary. Everything’s ok, I just got some news about a problem that my friend was having. But everything’s ok now. I can’t wait to see you all next time!” 

All technically true. Even if I did leave out a lot of details. I smiled and patted her hand, and met the eyes of every student as they drifted out of the studio. I had a quick word with Ressina to reassure her, too, and promised to lock up after I left. I told her I wanted to keep painting, but I stared at the canvas I had been working on earlier and couldn't bring myself to touch it. What I really wanted to do was shift into my wings and glide in silence for a few hours until my mind was clear and my muscles ached. But for reasons I still didn’t totally understand, I wasn’t allowed to shapeshift. Did it even matter, if we were doomed? Sitting in silence here would have to do. The House was our space, the townhouse was more Rhys’s than mine, the House of Wind might have been blasted off the side of the mountain by Nesta, and I didn’t want to cry or burst into flames in a Velarian restaurant or tea house in front of everybody. 

I put away the painting I had been working on before everything happened. I wondered if Mor and Elain knew about Nyx’s wings, our death sentence. I wished Mor were in town; I wished we could escape to the cabin and eat too much and complain about the others, and by the time I would be back somebody else would have fixed this. I could talk to Elain, but she would be at the House, and she might be too gentle to me. I picked up and put down some paperwork in the studio, swept up some pencil shavings, moving from task to task mostly aimlessly. I hadn’t even seen Mor since we told her I was pregnant, but Rhys would have asked for her help. Mor was probably searching for exotic solutions on the Continent and keeping that from me, on top of her other duties. If Elain knew about the wings, she might be as naive as I was, not knowing they spelled disaster. But Nuala or Cerridwen would know, and they could have talked about it together.

I made a cup of ginger tea and was rummaging around the snacks we kept at the front desk for the kids when I spotted Rhys through the big front windows, leaning against a street light out front. I stared him down as I sat behind the desk and peeled an orange. I could feel him hovering at the other side of our mental bridge, so I sent a wave of frozen air over. On the street, he winced, but kept eye contact. 

The shock and fear of Nesta’s words were a dull, throbbing pain behind the sharp sting of his betrayal. Maybe it was easier to focus on, or newer. After all, I had lived under the threat of death before, every winter in my human poverty, and the whole time Under the Mountain. I popped orange sections into my mouth, each bright, juicy piece a repudiation of the idea of death. 

On the street, the air around Rhys pulsed with boiling anger and quivering fear in equal intervals. I was trying to gather my thoughts by sitting here, not punish him, but my mind still hadn’t settled enough to weather his emotions in addition to my own. 

I turned to face the wall where the tapestry made of Hope and Void still hung. I took my time with the tea and the rest of the orange. I kept thinking back to that first night when his nightmare-tar had filled the room. In his nightmare, I was being taken from him, but he felt it was his fault. It was a problem that no one could fix. The nightmare had happened a few more times since then, I had caught that particular smell of panic lingering. 

I was the problem that dogged his sleeping mind: everything Rhys told me about his dream was technically true, he just left out a lot of details. He had been imagining my corpse, while I was delighted at the arc of my belly. He helped me pick out linens for a nursery he thought we would never use. I saw a set of baby onesies with panels for wings in a shop one day, and bought them on a whim. I folded and stacked them in the nursery dresser. They looked like some of Rhys’ cleverly-designed Illyrian shirts, but tiny and adorable. Each one was embroidered with little figures around the collar: one with frogs, one with bats, one with shooting stars. He seemed charmed by them, messing up my folding to button and unbutton the panels. He kept so much from me, trying to make me feel safe and happy. I found a pack of salty crackers, and tore into them. He had been alone all this time, too. 

He had pulled the same secretive bullshit before the bond snapped into place. Exactly this — keeping information about me, about us, from me. And at the Weaver’s cottage. And when he died in the war with Hybern. When would we stop making the same mistakes? I polished off the crackers and started in on a handful of pistachios. After his fear and subterfuge blows up in our faces, I still need a cooling off period, but I decided this time a couple of hours to deal with his hideous breach of trust and the threat to our lives would do, instead of a couple of days to accept an enduring and usually enjoyable mate bond. I snorted. Rhys might be a big Illyrian baby for another millennium, but at least I was maturing by leaps and bounds.

Being faced with my imminent death made everything hilarious. I dusted the crumbs off my hands and caught his eye. He stood up straight immediately. 

_Let’s walk_ I sent down the bond. 

_I’m sorry for hovering,_ he said. _I didn’t want you to feel alone._

_Too late,_ I said. _Let’s go anyway._

I locked up the studio and padded down the sidewalk, letting his long legs catch up to me and thinking about how to start. The light posts flickered on just as we made it to the path along the river. The snacks would tide me over, but I would be thirsty and tired of walking and hungry for something more substantial soon, so wanted to get this over with. I might be a dead female walking, but these careful considerations were habit by now, and why suffer from discomfort as well as impending doom?

I found a good spot against the railing overlooking the river and leaned against it on folded arms. Rhys took the same pose next to me, looking over the water, and took a deep breath. I cut him off before he could speak. “Well, first, I am unbelievably angry with you and all of our friends for keeping this from me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted you to enjoy this time, and I thought I could find a solution. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I am hurt. You failed, there.”

He fell silent. Round one to me. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He turned to face me. “I’m a mess. It’s been bad. How are you —”

I cut him off again. “The new dreams, about the problem you can’t solve, where the room is flooded with tar — this is the problem?”

He nodded. 

“I want you to tell me about the research you’ve done. I still don’t really understand why I can’t shapeshift again before he’s due. When I saw the Bone Carver, he didn’t have wings, so maybe we could get Nyx to shapeshift them away at the right time? And Varian said he found out about all this ‘inadvertently’ and I’d like to know what that means.”

He nodded again, and opened his mouth. 

“Later. I understand why you did it,” I forged on, sending him the verbal and emotional gymnastics I had done for the kids and Ressina this afternoon. “The difference is, I’m not a child. I’m not one of your subjects. I’m your mate, and High Lady of this land, and I can handle these things if we are together. Like I’ve been telling you for months now.” 

“I’m sorry —” he had clearly prepared a speech, but I grabbed his sleeve to stop him. I just wasn’t interested in having him say something pretty that would derail me, or make me forget the moment when Nesta’s words went beyond their mark, and into the center of my whole existence. I let go of his arm and turned back to the water.

“No. Not yet. I want to be sure you’re apologizing for the right thing. Hiding this from me was a bad mistake, Rhys, and if we live through it, you are going to be apologizing to me for a long time. I don’t know how I’ll ever trust you again.” I turned to fully face him. “I’m not mad or scared that my life is in danger; my life’s been in danger before. _You’ve_ put my life in danger before. I’m a little mad that this puts you in danger, and off the charts angry for Nyx, but I won’t let that affect how I take care of myself or him. I’m not even mad at Nesta; she’s a wildcat and we cornered her. It’s her nature to strike.”

At Nesta’s name, his jaw tightened and ribbons of Night smoke unspooled at his shoulders and hands. “She takes every opportunity to strike at you, and I won’t allow that or forgive her for that. Not as a girl, not now that she’s a weapon waiting to go off, not ever.”

I shook my head, no. “She’ll never say it, but this was her showing she loves me. She saw you all keeping things from her, and keeping things from me, and she wanted to even the score against you.” 

“You have such a twisted perception of love, if that’s what you —“

“No. I don’t care, she was probably right to be mad, and went to hurt everyone in reach to prove she could.” I held his gaze, trying to get through everything I had realized this afternoon. “She’ll never do any real damage to me if we’re working as one. But we haven’t been. She showed me that. You haven’t been honest with me, and that’s what you need to apologize for. She told me the truth when no one else would, even if it was for spite. Because this is how I feel now,”

I sidestepped the beginning of my memory when I compared him to Tamlin, but sent how I equated myself to Amarantha, and watched it hit him like a punch to the gut. He gritted out, “That’s not the same. At. All.”

“I had no idea what was going on with you, because you kept it so hidden from me. You’ve had a lifetime of practice hiding yourself — more than a human lifetime — and you’re very good at it.” 

“The best.” He said, hollow.

“The best,” I agreed. “I’ve been alone for months, and didn’t know it. I won’t allow that, Rhys, and I don’t know how to forgive you yet.” 

Tears welled in his eyes, and he nodded, slowly. I finally let him say his piece. “I’m sorry in so many ways. I never wanted you to feel anything like that. When I realized you didn’t understand how dangerous the wings were, I only wanted a little more time to find a solution. I didn’t want you to miss out on anything that would bring you joy, especially if we could just fix it before it caused any damage. You deserve absolute joy, Feyre.”

“So do you.” I said, my eyes welling up again.

“I feel terribly guilty for letting it go on so long. I’m so, so sorry you heard about it this way, and I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t the one to tell you, right away, so we could figure it out together. I blame myself for all of this, that I didn’t think about the consequences of shapeshifting. That’s the kind of thing you couldn’t have known, but I should have considered. And this all started because you knew I wanted a family, and I can’t stand that my selfishness has put your life in danger, again.” 

With that, he seemed to have delivered the speech he had in mind, but I frowned at him as I wiped his tears, and then my own. 

“This all started because I loved flying so much last summer, and because I saw a tapestry. I made my choices. The Cauldron’s got a wicked sense of humor, and we can either laugh along or be the target of every joke.”

He took my face in his hands, and wiped a set of my freshly rolling tears away with his thumbs before pulling me into a full body hug. “I’ll laugh at Death with you any day, Feyre darling.” 

Eventually, he heard my stomach growling, and pulled back. “We should find something to eat.”

I nodded. “Did you break every window in the House? I thought I felt something boom earlier, and if the House is a mess, we should find a place here.”

He sheepishly tried to send me a memory, but I waved it away. I didn’t want to see him in a rage. “I don’t think so,” he told me “but it was a near thing. Cassian took the brunt of it.”

We turned away from the river and started walking downstream, arm in arm “How is Cassian?” I asked. 

“He’ll be ok. He picked up Nesta and left. I was ready to tear her head off.” 

“I’m sure. Where’d they go?”

“I have no idea. I don’t think I should know that, actually, I might accidentally send a lightning bolt down on them, and I think Cassian has my nice compass.”

I stopped him on the path and turned him to face me again. “It’s too soon for jokes. Earlier today I stressed how important respect is to our circle, which was what set Nesta off on me. You’re being awfully rude about the sister I respect, and the general we both do.”

The grin faded from his face. “I respect Nesta.”

I crossed my arms. “Well, you can show me that by apologizing to her, and Cassian, for your rage-storm. I can’t even bear to see a memory of it, and he got the full force. ”

“I am sorry about that. And I’m sorry about being disrespectful to Nesta.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to Cassian after dinner and show I’m ok. I want them to come back. Did you fix Amren’s door?”

“Hmm. Yeah.”

We had reached one of the prettiest bridges in Velaris, with a perfect view of the coast spread out below as we reached its midpoint.

“I also need to have a conversation with Madja, and how she should communicate risk to me in the future. And I have a lot of new questions.”

“We’ll have her over tomorrow.” 

The sun had gone down over the sea, and the Night Court was in its full glory. Rhys glanced at me to confirm I was ready, then winnowed us back to the river’s edge lawn of the House. We walked up the gentle slope like we had dozens of times before, but never so sorrowful and never so scared. 

“I’m sorry this is happening.” 

“I’m sorry this is happening.”

And we walked into the glowing house together.


	3. The light that shines on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in ACOSF Ch. 76 and onward, from Feyre's POV? Fluffy!

I closed my eyes. Madja’s grim expression surrounded by my blood-soaked lower half was replaced by a moonlit hill on a windy night. Clouds scudded across the moon’s face and gusts of wind rustled the trees; a landscape in turmoil, but very beautiful. I wanted to stay here. Rhys whispered into my mind, but I couldn’t follow the words any longer. I wanted to show the moon and this windswept night to my baby. 

Nyx. Coming far too early and bringing more pain than I thought I could bear.

Rhys was with me, a buffeting storm at my back and in my ears; he was all the movement and sound and darkness around me. I knew there was pain in my body and a chorus of agonized faces surrounding me, but that was far away and another time from where I was now. I wanted to settle in to Rhys’s arms, Nyx safe in mine, and stand here watching the storm rage for a hundred years. 

But in the vision a cold, swirling darkness — a strange and unkind darkness, not Rhys’s familiar darkness— coalesced and diffused into eddying shapes. Iron teeth glinted at the horizon as it circled. The wind picked up to a roar, but I knew it was here for me, and would not be dissuaded. 

I stood on the hill, suspended between darknesses, and had turned to face the menacing presence when I felt the sound.

A vibration passed through me, the landscape, the room I remembered leaving. 

And then, clear as ringing crystal, a voice cut through everything. 

In the beginning  
And in the end  
There was Darkness  
And nothing more

 _My child_ , it seemed to say, just to me. 

Rhys’ moonlit landscape was somehow behind me now, and I looked out into a formless expanse. I had been here before — floating away from my life, tethered only by my bond to Rhys. This time, even that seemed to drift with me in the nothing-space. 

When you toss an apple into the air, it seems to hang at the top of an arc for just a moment; not moving up, not moving down, just perfect in its stillness. I was in that moment, but it went on and on. I couldn’t form the words, but thought to wonder about my child and my mate. And suddenly, a response came. It wasn't from the dark swarm of teeth; a wave of gold nudged me through the gloom of nothingness, past the darknesses, and down from my bedroom ceiling, seating me firmly back into my own perspective. 

Nesta, suddenly next to me, was holding my hand. Whispering ‘I love you.’ 

I felt Nesta’s breath on my neck; we had rarely been so close. Maybe in the dead of winter in the bed in the old cottage, but that was hardly intentional, and never a sign of affection. Nesta, whose power Rhys described as pure death. 

This was beyond affection. 

“I’ll give back what I took from you. Just show me how to save them—her and Rhysand and the baby.”

Rhysand and the baby were here. So close. 

Nesta whispering “I give it back, I give it back, I give it back.”

And then I felt another wave, a cooler stream of moonlit pearl flowing over and down and then up my arms and legs, as though filling me up from the ends of my fingers and toes. 

Rhys gripped my hand. 

Rhys. 

When I opened my eyes, it was like waking up from a long, strange dream. Sunlight was streaming through the windows. I blinked at Rhys, my stedfast, guiding star, my eternal love, who had been with me to the edge of existence and back every time. 

But there were others, too. I turned to Nesta, my unflinching sister, and took in her filthy and ragged clothes, spattered in blood that wasn’t hers or even mine. My eyes blurred the image, and refocused. She had always been a warrior but now it was sealed by the Blood Rite. Another trial she hadn’t asked for, but met and conquered. Nesta had gone to the edge of existence with that power and bargained with forces beyond nature. Her love filled my veins. I told her the first words I had been able to grasp since closing my eyes. “I love you, too.” It was true, and she fell into my arms. 

That’s when I heard him — my baby, my new love, my Nyx, crying for the first time. I couldn’t hold back tears as Mor brought him to me, and I marveled. He was finally here, whole and perfect. Here was his shocking sweep of charcoal-black hair, the seashell curve of a nostril, cornflower eyes blinking as he took a deep breath, and a cupid’s bow mouth currently curled into a frown, which then released a new wail. I would paint him in this moment a thousand times. 

Tears, and blood. Sweat, and milk. Sound and color and warmth and sensation flooded me. Perhaps it was the strangeness of coming back from where I had just been, or perhaps I was feeling the world through Nyx’s senses for a moment. Rhys was on his knees before Nesta, but then she knelt with him and held him close. 

So many unbelievable things had happened in the space of an hour. I kept learning that lesson. 

The minutes passed, and our room grew quieter as the members of the Inner Circle drifted out. Mor had held Nyx first, and then I had held him as he fed. But I looked over to Rhys, sitting by my side. “Hold him? While I change?” Rhys nodded and gestured at me, replacing my blood-soaked shift with a fresh one. Another gesture, and the bed linens were also refreshed. Madja nodded approvingly from the side table where she was packing away her equipment, and then Rhys so, so carefully, took Nyx from my arms and nestled him into his chest. 

I had never seen this look on his face, completely open with adoration, and yet still etched with terror from the previous hours. The closest I could think of was that moment on the balcony when I had first seen his wings, before he left Under the Mountain. That pale male, breathing freedom for the first time after fifty years of deception and restraint, had been suddenly hit by a wave of awe and, I would come to know much (much) later, love. But this expression was so much softer than that moment had been, and it stayed, and stayed, and stayed. 

I had been sick, and injured, and looked over the boundaries of death before. My body felt different or maybe off-balance, although I had hardly moved. I had a sense that Nesta’s healing magic would have some side effects, but I was also just so full of feeling in every direction. Watching Rhys with Nyx, I was overjoyed and terrified, pleased with Nyx and aware of how close we had been to being separated forever. 

I laid my head in Rhys’ lap and sobbed. He drew a quick breath. “Are you in pain? What’s wrong?” His arms were full, or I’m sure he would have reached for me, but he was also in my mind before the words were even out. I had no walls.

_Madja’s just in the hall, I can have her back in a moment._

_No, nothing hurts. I feel strange, but fine. I think I’m feeling all the fear from the last months, mixed with the most amazing joy I’ve ever felt, and relief that he’s here, and seeing you finally hold him._

He worked a hand out from under Nyx’s legs to stroke my hair while I cried. Eventually, I dozed off, and then woke up and fed Nyx again while Rhys drafted an announcement to be shared throughout Night Court. We spent the afternoon admiring his fingernails, the elegant curve of the edge of his wing, unswaddling him to figure out diapers before swaddling him back up. We counted Nyx’s fingers and toes with each of our friends. Azriel and Elain and Mor seemed to take turns refreshing platters of fruit and cookies and little sweet and savory tarts as an excuse to pop their heads in and gaze at me and Rhys and Nyx in turn, and reassure us and themselves that the danger had passed. Cassian didn’t make an excuse. I was half-asleep on Rhys’s shoulder the first time he came in and hoarsely whispered ‘Everything ok? We’re all downstairs just staring at each other, hoping you’ll ask for something so we can see you again.’ Rhys smiled and nodded and had Cassian come sit on the bed to hold Nyx, where we were delighted by his first sneeze, and even Nesta grinned.

We couldn’t be beyond an arm’s reach of each other all day. It was all the pent up love and fear and shock, but I was also so tired, and weak as a kitten. I did ask to hold Rhys’ arm as I walked to the bathing room, used the toilet, and washed my face, while Mor trailed us holding Nyx, and Azriel stood watchfully at the bedroom door. 

By the time I made it back, Madja had set some of her tea, a noxious but restorative mix of garlic and ginger and something green on both of our nightstands in steaming mugs. I quizzed her using every fae-riddle trick I knew: to the best of her knowledge and any test’s ability to reveal this information, were my son and I in good health, now and for the foreseeable future? Did she detect anything unusual about my healing beyond the Illyrian structural changes Nesta had mentioned? Rhys nodded along, listening carefully to the discussion, and adding a point or two about fae healing he had learned, or thought I might not have known. Eventually, I was reassured. “I’m sorry if this is a bit much,” I added, as she left for the night. 

I told him mind to mind. _We should get Madja a very nice present._

 _I was thinking beach house,_ he said. I nodded enthusiastically. 

Rhys was patting Nyx after another bout of feeding when he hiccuped and spat a thin stream of milk down Rhys’ back. Between Rhys, Nyx, and Amren, I’m not sure who was the most surprised. I took Nyx back and gently wiped off his face while Rhys pulled his shirt off and threw it in a basket. Amren politely, but quickly, excused herself.

Day drifted into evening. Elain knew a lullaby, and I remembered an echo of it. She was teaching me the words, which were simple enough. “I see the moon, the moon sees me, under the shade of an old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.”  
Rhys laughed. It was the first time I had heard him laugh with joy in weeks. “That’s a human lullaby?”  
Elain nodded. “A nanny used to sing it to us.” Rhys laughed again. “It’s what we sing for children’s birthdays in the Night Court. Have done, for millennia.”  
Elain laughed too, her cheeks glowing pink as she shared Rhys’ joy and seemed to multiply it, in that way she always could. “Well, I’ll be glad to teach it to my nephew.”

I couldn’t believe the sun would set like any other day, but I heard Rhys’s stomach grumble, and asked Elain if anyone had made plans for dinner. She smiled, and said oh yes, she’d bring up a tray. 

“That’s ok. I want to go downstairs and eat at the table with my whole family. Everyone’s alive. This is a good day, and I want to celebrate.” 

I combed my fingers through my sweaty, unwashed, tangled hair, and looked down at my shift, wrinkled from laying around for hours. 

“The dress code is just — very casual, more so than usual.” I looked over to Rhys. “We will do our best to have shirts on, though.” Elain laughed again and left to go set the table. Rhys grinned and rummaged through a dresser while I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The world swam a bit and my vision blurred, so I carefully turned and put Nyx down on the middle of the bed. 

Rhys popped his head through his shirt and turned sharply. He was in my mind again, questioning, looking for evidence of something wrong. 

“I’m ok.” I said, as my vision cleared and the world righted itself. _Just a bit lightheaded,_ I added mind-to-mind. _I don’t have any strength to walk downstairs. Help me?_ I asked.  
“Always,” he said. I picked Nyx up and cradled him close to my chest, while Rhys picked me up, carefully adjusting my shoulders and knees to walk downstairs. He set me down just outside the doorway. I put Nyx in the crook of his left arm, and leaned into his right side, wrapping my arm around his waist. I wasn’t dizzy from standing, just in love with them both.

Our family was busy, settling dishes and serving spoons on the table and lighting candles around the dining room, but everyone looked up as we walked in. Elain turned around, bearing a single candle in a sweet tart. She started singing the lullaby we Archerons had heard as human children, the tune the Night Court knew as a birthday song, “I see the moon, the moon sees me…” Everyone joined in, even Emerie and Gwyn, who didn’t seem to know where to look, but whose lovely, clear voice rang out from the opposite end of the table. “Under the shade of an old oak tree.” Nesta clearly remembered the words. “Please let the light that shines on me,“ she and Cassian grasped hands on top of the table. 

After “shine on the one I love,” our Inner Court seemed to hold their collective breath. Of course — the birthday song needed the guest of honor’s name. Rhys sang out “Nyx!” We had kept his name to ourselves all this time, first out of the pleasure of having a secret, then eclipsed by the fear it would never be used. Everyone clapped, and I blew out the candle and basked in the warmth of love that flowed down the table from my family.

Nyx slept through dinner, passed from arm to arm as we all took turns eating and admiring him in whispered conversation. The moon rose over the Sidra, creating a beautiful background through the dining room windows. It was better than anything I had imagined, even in the glowing first months of the pregnancy.

Before too long, I was also fading at the table, and Rhys scooped me up as I waved goodnight to everyone. Mor followed us upstairs with Nyx, who had started to fuss. Rhys took him, and I sat down at the vanity and said ‘Mor, could you do that thing to my hair? I feel gross.’ She picked up a brush and unbound what remained of my braid from yesterday, while catching my eye in the mirror. 

I reached my mind out to Mor. _Everything’s alright._ I had a feeling I would be starting all my conversations that way for a while. _I do feel gross, so thank you. But I’m going to feed Nyx, and then fall asleep myself. Can you stay a while? Sit with us, or maybe in the next room? I don’t know if Rhys will be able to sleep without someone on guard._

Mor’s mind laughed, but she kept her face still and continued teasing snarls out of my hair, leaving it cleaner and fresh-smelling by some slight magic unique to her. _Rhys just asked me the same thing. I promised to bring Emerie back to Windhaven, and Azriel’s taking Gwyn back to the library, but we’ll be back in a flash._

I nodded at the plan, and closed my eyes as she brushed out my hair, watching through the bond as Rhys changed and re-swaddled Nyx. By the time she finished and left to winnow Emerie home, Rhys was holding Nyx and humming, propped up against the headboard by a few extra pillows. I was unlacing the front of my shift, and took Nyx to feed him again. “If you’re going to steal my pillows, I’m just going to have to use you,” I declared, settling between Rhys’ legs and leaning against his chest. I was safe in his arms, Nyx safe in mine, and together, we admired the moon. 

I recognized Rhys’ humming. The refrain from the lullaby echoed through my mind again: Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these characters but I think that's all I've got for now! If there are other missing scenes/POVs on your mind, let me know in a comment!


End file.
